


Under Observation

by Bright_Elen



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Dr. Harrison Wells, missing sleep is a small price to pay for another of the Flash's secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Observation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Under Observation/暗中窥探](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9431900) by [LiKan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiKan/pseuds/LiKan)



An alarm woke Dr. Wells - a few soft, rising notes that had him instantly alert despite the hour and despite how rarely he heard that particular sound. Alert, but not with anxiety. It wasn’t the danger warning, thank God. That was a sound he’d heard far too much in the last weeks. No, his increased heart rate indicated something else.

He sat up and pressed his hand to the hidden plate next to the wall display. His bedroom door locked, the window became opaque, and his wall display came out of sleep mode. A few gestures brought him to the screen showing his various dozen or so main surveillance feeds. Of course, there were many more than a dozen cameras. If it had been that simple, he’d have cheerfully spilled rivers of blood to have a camera in every room of every building, on every street corner and alley and rooftop of Central City. Even after almost two decades, the turn of the millenium left him feeling blind. But, things being what they were, he had to live with having eyes only on the places he was certain Barry Allen would be.

For the less compelling viewpoints, he’d installed stationary cameras with fish-eye lenses. The staircase at the police station, the street and sidewalk outside Barry’s apartment building, and the approach to Jitters all fell into that category. Others, like Detective West’s office, had two or three cameras each. The most interesting places had five, ten, fifteen, as many cameras as Wells could possibly fit in without detection, even a few microphones.

The forensics lab. The main workspace and medical areas of Star Labs. The interior of Barry Allen’s apartment.  

It was fortunate for Dr. Wells that the Flash never thought to analyse his own environment for clues.

The icon for the bedroom was slowly blinking. The physicist’s breath caught as he opened the feed. A tap on the controls had the faint creaks of the mattress and the whisper of skin on sheets moving through Wells’ speakers.

Barry lived in an older building - no elevator, shared laundry in the basement, no air conditioning. Things a healthy young man didn’t really miss. Which meant that the unseasonably warm night had the bedroom window open and the covers kicked halfway onto the floor. Like the others in that room, the camera directly above the bed had light-amplification capability, so Dr. Wells saw Barry’s long, lean body in a crisp gray monochrome.

Hair sticking in every direction and boxers rumpled, it was clear that the heat was adversely impacting his sleep. In a slow, restless cycle he curled up, stretched out, rolled over.

Harrison found himself on his feet in front of the display, thumb tracing the curve of Barry’s cheek. Even in grayscale he was gorgeous, and besides triggering the alarm the restless turning helped put his well-defined chest, abdomen, and legs on display. That probably wasn’t all, though. The surveillance AI and the subdermal biometric sensors didn’t activate the alarm for simple tossing and turning, or Wells would never get any sleep.

After another turn, he saw it. Barry’s shorts bulged slightly over the beginnings of an erection. Dr. Wells froze, a tiny smile curving his lips, eyes locked on the picture. Now that was interesting.

Settling on his side, head pillowed on one arm, a slight frown creased the younger man’s sleeping face. Eyelashes fluttering on his cheek, he pushed one hand unconsciously into his boxers.

“Go on, Barry,” Wells urged quietly. “That’s it.”

The steady motion of Barry’s hand massaging his cock was unmistakable under the thin fabric of the shorts. Even though part of Dr. Wells wanted to rip the cloth away so he could see everything, he cherished the moment for what it was: Intimate. Unperformed. Real. Part of who Barry was when he thought he was alone. Something that no one else knew about him.

No matter how many of the Flash’s secrets Harrison collected, he treasured every last one of them.

The younger man’s chest expanded around a deep breath and he swallowed, the dual motion rippling subtly through his throat and torso. The waistband of the boxers strained against his wrist as he switched to pumping.

Wells was breathing faster now. The hand not caressing Barry's image opened and closed against his thigh.

Barry bit his lips, hips jerking even as he worked his cock faster. A moment later he shuddered to a stop, mouth open in silent ecstasy, whole body tensing with his climax. Then he relaxed bonelessly against the mattress. His breathing slowed.

Dr. Wells licked his lips. Was that the end? His hand hovered over the ‘back’ icon.

Barry’s hand came back out of the boxers and came to rest on his chest. He grimaced, blinked his eyes halfway open, and discovered the mess.

“Ugh.” Looking around the bed for something to clean himself, the younger man sighed, gave up, and stripped the shorts from himself in an undignified wriggle. It was the mundane, somewhat unpleasant, yet still necessary dealing with the messy aftermath of orgasm.

It also involved Barry awake, naked, and touching himself.

Dr. Wells dug his fingers into his leg. It counterbalanced the almost painful intensity of his own arousal and kept him from giving into the temptation to touch himself. He refused to give anything less than perfect concentration to this moment. Mind-numbing release could come later.

His patience was rewarded as Barry used the drier parts of the shorts to wipe himself clean. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, one hand holding his gentials to the side so he could remove the mess, the young man paused as the cloth brushed his skin. A hitched breath, and then he’d dropped the shorts, cock suddenly hard again.

“Accelerated refractory period,” Dr. Wells murmured. “Of course. Extraordinary.” Another tap at the controls, and he’d toggled to the camera in the window frame.

Leaning back on one hand, Barry sat on the edge bed and slowly kneaded his balls, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. One moment his long fingers squeezed tight around his flesh, another and they were loosening, over and over, occasionally tugging. He closed his eyes all the way and groaned softly.

Wells took a shuddering breath and flexed his hands open and shut.

Now at what Harrison suspected was peak arousal, Barry leaned over to the nightstand, pumped some lotion one-handed, and wrapped slick fingers around the base of his cock. The first few strokes were smooth and measured, but soon he was pumping constantly without any rhythm whatsoever, faster and faster. At the end, his hands blurred for a second, maybe two.

Catching himself with both hands on the wall was necessary to keep Dr. Wells upright.

As Barry came into his hand, he threw his head back, eyes opened wide. For a terrifying instant it seemed that he was looking directly at Harrison - pulse already hammering, Wells felt the adrenaline like a heart attack and took an involuntary step back. A second later he dropped to the bed.

Barry hadn’t discovered the camera. It was just a coincidence.

Another few moments, and the younger man collapsed back into his own bed, dragging the sheet back over himself. Soon Barry was back to sleep.

Hands shaking, Wells unbuttoned his pajama pants and backed up the video.

 


End file.
